the best executed bas-reliefs of the ancients.
Like these, the Slavic poems seldom represent wild passions or
complicated actions; but, by preference, scenes of rest, and mostly
scenes of domestic grief or joy. When we look at the celebrated Greek
bas-relief, which represents an affianced maiden the evening before
her wedding, weeping, or bashfully hiding her fair face, while a
servant girl washes her feet,[7] we cannot help being impressed with
just the same feelings, which seize us when we hear or read one of the
numerous Slavic songs devoted to similar scenes. To illustrate our
remarks, and to make our readers understand exactly what we call the
_plastic_ character of Slavic popular songs, we insert here the
following Servian love-scene. We add, that it was one of Goethe's
favourites, worthy, in his opinion, to be compared with the
Canticles.[8] There is a melody in the language of this song, not to
be imitated in any translation. We confess that Frederic Schlegel's
definition of architecture, "frozen music," occurs to us when we read
it in the original.

JOVO AND MARIA.

'Cross the field a breeze it bore the roses,
Bore them far into the tent of Jovo;
In the tent were Jovo and Maria,
Jovo writing and Maria broidering.
Used has Jovo all his ink and paper,
Used Maria all her burnished gold-thread.
Thus accosted Jovo then Maria;
"O sweet love, my dearest soul, Maria,
Tell me, is my soul then dear unto thee?
Or my hand find'st thou it hard to rest on?"
Then with gentle voice replied Maria;
"O, in faith, my heart and soul, my Jovo,
Dearer is to me thy soul, O dearest,
Than my brothers, all the four together.
Softer is thy hand to me to rest on,
Than four cushions, softest of the soft ones."[9]

The high antiquity of Slavic popular poetry is manifest among other
things, in the frequent mythological features which occur. In the
ballads of the Teutonic nations, we recollect very few instances of
talking animals. As to those which talk in nursery tales, we are
always sure to discover in them enchanted princes or princesses. In
one Scotch ballad, "The Gray Goshawk," a horse speaks; and, in a few
other instances, falcons and nightingales. In Spanish popular poetry
we do not meet with a single similar example. In the songs of all the
Slavic nations, conversing, thinking, sympathizing animals are very
common. No one wonders at it. The giant Tugarin Dragonson's steed
warns him of every da